


Behind the curtain

by Foxstress



Category: Apocalyptica
Genre: Gen, band memories, before the gig, just general fluffy fondness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-07
Updated: 2014-09-07
Packaged: 2018-02-16 12:32:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2269809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Foxstress/pseuds/Foxstress
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Perttu reflecting on how he came to be a part of Apocalyptica, in his before-the-gig moment of nerves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Behind the curtain

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kangamommy](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Kangamommy).



> Okay, so this was a commission gift for Kangamommy http://kangamommy.tumblr.com/ for my Tumblr fanfic giveaway thingy. And personally I know exactly nothing about Apocalyptica, so this is just based on the things I read from her blog and my quick web research on the subject, and I hope it's not too horrible to read for the fans. It's just a little moment with Perttu going down the memory lane.

The chatter of two thousand people came through the ceiling of the dressing room, a slow rumble not unlike a very excited thunderstorm, if such a thing existed. The blond man gave his long hair a final brush in front of the large mirror and then did the eyeliner. “Are you pretty enough yet, Perttu?” one of his friends asked, and Perttu chuckled at the joke, like always. Fifteen years they had played together, Perttu was hardly the only one of them to wear eyeliner, and still, Eicca made the same dumb joke before every single gig. It was their little ritual.

The rumble from above was getting louder as the clock was approaching the starting time of the gig, and Perttu felt a familiar tingling in his stomach. It made him think of his first gig with Apocalyptica, way back in 1995…

 

“Are you sure about this?” young Perttu had asked quietly from Eicca. They had been on a stage behind a thick, red curtain with Eicca’s bandmates, and Perttu had been tapping the side of his cello nervously. It was not like he hadn’t played in front of a live audience before – he had, many times. But never anything quite like this.

“Well, no time to turn back now, so I’d fucking better be sure, right?” Eicca had said from behind his cello with a smirk – the same smirk that he had been wearing when he had talked Perttu into doing this. So, there they had been. About to play Metallica covers to a live audience with cellos. Sure. What could possibly go wrong?

And yet, Perttu had loved the idea. The quirkyness of it, the merging of something classical and radical. It had hit a very special place in his heart, and he had been really happy to be involved, even if just that one time. When the curtain had been raised, he had played with a radiant joy. After the gig, he had felt a very keen sting of sadness over the fact that he would not be doing this again.

Little did he know.

 

A few years later, Perttu had gotten a sudden call from Eicca. “Can we meet for a drink?” Now, while drinking is a second nature to most Finns, Perttu had sensed a certain purpose to Eicca’s voice that told him this wasn’t just a regular bar trip. It had started out normally enough, though. A lot of beer. Then a few shots of vodka. Finally, Eicca had put his hand on Perttu’s shoulder and told him what they were there for.

“So here’s the thing.” It was getting hard to focus his eyes clearly on Eicca’s face, but Perttu had listened eagerly. “Antero is leaving the band. No, not because – no, he just has so much other stuff on his plate, you know?” Eicca had explained, when Perttu had looked like he was about to ask something. “It’s all good. But we need a new player. And I thought about you, because you were damn good that one time you played with us.”

“Yeah? It was a great fucking gig, wasn’t it?” Perttu had said fondly. He had been exremely pleased that Eicca would want him for the band, but didn’t want to seem too excited – he was a grown ass man, not a teenage girl.

“It was. So what do you say? You wanna be a part of Apocalyptica?”

Perttu had looked at his friend and grinned. “I’m gonna have to grow my hair out, aren’t I?”

 

Fifteen years had passed since then. Fifteen years of incredible fans, great bandmates and of course, the music. Perttu would never have thought that life would lead him to this place; playing rockish metal music with a cello with a bunch of guys who had become like a second family to him. Having fans from all around the world. Living the dream. It was not without hard times, of course, but he wouldn’t have changed a thing.

Their manager came to knock on the dressing room door. “Let’s get to the stage, boys!” Perttu, Eicca, Paavo and Mikko got up – Perttu took off his shirt nonchalantly and threw it in the corner before exiting the room. The rumble of the audience got louder as they climbed up the stairs, and by the time the boys reached the backstage, the excitement was almost visible in the air. Paavo and Mikko were laughing at some dirty joke one of them had told, and Perttu took some deep breaths. He felt the blood rushing in his ears.

“Damn, it’s cool to be playing in NYC,” Eicca said with a grin. He looked at his friend. “You good?” Perttu smiled and nodded. Even after hundreds, maybe thousands of gigs, his heart was pounding before each one. It was not fear or nervousness – it was the same excitement and joy he had felt from the very first time he had played on the same stage with Eicca and the others. He shook his long hair back, braced his shoulders and walked with his friends on the stage, to the bright lights and the uncontrollable cheering of their fans.


End file.
